A Spark Neglected
by erbkaiser
Summary: Was the Great Fire of London really the result of an accident and a few mistakes, or was a certain Dark family involved? Quidditch Fan League submission for round 3.


**A Spark Neglected**

A/N: Written for Round 3 of the Quidditch Fan League

Team: **Montrose Magpies**

Position: **Beater 2**. Round setting is a historical human-caused disaster: **The Great Fire of London, 1666**

Prompts used: **1** (nursery rhyme) Ba ba black sheep / **8** (word) family / **15** (word) decision

Beta'd by my fellow Magpies

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_Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

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_City of London, Sunday, 2 September 1666, late at night_

It's the smallest decisions that sometimes have the biggest impact.

Regulus Black at age seventeen was now considered an adult in both the wizarding and muggle world, not that the family dealt with muggles much. He had gone out for a stiff drink in a wizarding pub at the docks of the City of London with some friends from Hogwarts, and it had gotten later than planned. He had also had a little too much to drink to apparate safely home, so he decided to walk. London was not the safest city in the world, but a young wizard was in no danger from any robber, even at this time of night. Besides, his home was just past the City's walls in Islington, so he wouldn't need to cross open fields.

The time was near midnight, but apparently a babe had woken up, as he heard crying come from a street-facing window. The child was shushed, and a mother's voice began singing softly:

"_Baa, Baa, a Black sheep, / Have you any Wool?  
Yes merry have I, / three Bags full,  
One for my Master, / One for my Dame,  
One for the little Boy / That Lives down the lane."_

Some people would be warmed by overhearing something like that, but Regulus cursed as he heard it. Black Sheep indeed... few people these days knew it, but that accursed nursery rhyme was an insult to his family.

Until the fourteenth century the Black wealth had come in great part from their sheep farms. They had grown so prosperous from it that they had established a residence near the City of London, in order to coördinate their trade at the great meat market of Smithfield.  
Over time the Malfoys – a family of Norman descent – grew jealous of the Black wealth and influence. They had moved their official home to a manor in the City, and had grown ever closer to the muggle King. After years of plotting, they convinced the King Edward to pass the Great Wool Tax. This extra taxation nearly broke the Blacks financially, and they had needed to abandon the lucrative muggle trade completely. That was where their dislike for the Norman upstarts really started from... a Black would never forgive. They got their revenge, even if it would take multiple generations.

In fact, Regulus' father Nigellus Black was part of a group of the Old Families that was trying to convince the International Confederation of Wizards to call for a blanket ban on all contact with the muggle world. Of course, should it come into effect, the Malfoys would be cut off from most of their income as they relied heavily on trade with the muggle markets...

Regulus walked on, a deep frown on his face as he realised he would soon be passing near the Malfoy's London home on Martin Lane. He could also still hear the muggle mother singing softly from behind him. So the muggles thought they could mock his family? Regulus was getting in more and more a sour mood as he walked on, and got lost in his thoughts. As he was not looking ahead, he suddenly bumped into someone from behind.

"Oi, watch where yer goin'," the man called over his shoulder, and then looked ahead again. Intrigued, Regulus looked past the man, and saw a house burning.

"I say, what is going on here?" Regulus asked.

"It's the Farynor's bakery," a third man said. "They was preparing the oven for the Monday bread they was, and started a fire."  
Ahead of them, flames leapt out of an open roof, and the structure partially collapsed.  
"Baker an' his family's made it out I think, but it looks bad," the third man spoke again. "Best they tear down the other houses fast."

Several Parish constables arrived on the scene. Volunteer fire-fighters had also begun amassing, and were throwing buckets of water onto the burning house in an attempt to douse the flames.

Intrigued by the disaster, and unwilling to go home just yet, Regulus decided to wait and see what was happening.

"You can't tear down my home!" a man protested, standing in front of one of the houses directly next to the bakery. He was attempting to stop the fire-fighters from using their fire hooks to tear the building down.

Regulus smirked. The man was a fool... his home was lost, he just didn't know it yet. The bakery was starting to crumble under the heat, and the houses on the other side were already starting to catch fire. If the fire-fighters were allowed to tear down the adjacent buildings, at least they stood a chance to contain the fire before it spread further.

The street he was in, Pudding Lane, was beginning to get crowded, as people fled their homes with as much as they could carry. The fire-fighters had managed to set up a bucket train leading back to the river Thames, and the constables were now attempting to keep the public out of the way.

"Don't be a fool man, we must! The fire is spreading fast, can't you see?" a constable tried to convince the home-owner. Meanwhile, Regulus saw the first tongues of fire lick the building's roof.

"I have my rights! You shan't destroy our homes!" the home-owner protested once more. His neighbours joined the protest, and the constables and fire-fighters were left to face an angered crowd.

It was a warm September night. There was a brisk easterly wind that carried more heat from the dry city towards them, and Regulus thought he could feel the fire's heat already. The wizard leant comfortably against a wall, watching the foolish muggles argue further among themselves.

After half an hour a good section of Pudding Lane was in flames, and Regulus had to leave his spot. He found a new spot the in the midst of a crowd that had assembled on the wider Lower Thames Street, when a carriage came racing through the crowd. It stopped in front of the intersection with Pudding Lane, and a fat man dressed in ornate black clothes and wearing a large silver chain stepped out.

"Make way for the Right Honourable, the Lord Mayor of London!" a servant yelled. The Lord Mayor Sir Thomas Bloodworth stepped onto the busy street, and was immediately addressed by the leading fire-fighter.

"My Lord Mayor, we must tear down the houses now, before the fire spreads any further," he started. "If we wait too long, the entire area including the warehouses at the river front will be lost!"

Regulus considered the situation. With the wind coming from the east and the city all dried up, the fire would spread fast unless it was stopped now... and this was a perfect opportunity to not only teach the damned Muggles that dared insult his family a lesson, but perhaps cost the Malfoys their home as well.  
He reached a decision: surreptitiously he took out his wand, and aimed it at the Lord Mayor. "_Imperio_," Regulus whispered.

Sir Thomas Bloodworth stiffened momentarily, and his eyes glazed over as the mental commands of the wizard took hold.  
"Pish! A woman could piss it out," Regulus made the Lord Mayor say.

"You heard the Lord Mayor! You're not touching my home!" an upset civilian yelled.

"Leave," Regulus whispered, sending a new command to the Lord Mayor. Sir Thomas Bloodworth opened the door to his cab and stepped back inside, and the carriage rode off.

The fire-fighters looked on dismayed as they now had no chance to fight the fire any further. Regulus let out a laugh, and walked away.

–-

On Monday morning, Regulus was at the breakfast table in Grimmauld Place, when an owl came with the Daily Prophet. He stood up to let the owl through the window, and thought he could see smoke rising in the south, near the Thames.

"May I read it first, father?" he asked. Regulus gave the owl a Knut and unbound the rolled up parchment from its leg.

"Yes, Son, if you wish," Nigellus replied.

Regulus opened the newspaper and read:

_'It is with much regret that this paper is forced to report on a sad and lamentable accident of Fire hapned of late in the great muggle City of London: in his great wisdom the Minister for Magic has decided to inform the realm's loyal Subjects of the sad news of which we, exclusively, have a short, but true accownt._

_At one on the clock in the morning, there hapned to break out, a sad and deplorable Fire in Pudding-Lane, near New Fish-Street, which upon falling out at such an hour of the night, and in a quarter of the Town so close built with muggle wooden houses, that it spread itself so far before day, and with such distraction to the muggles, that care was not taken for proper diffusion of it, by pulling down houses as ought to have been; so that this lamentable Fire in short time became too big to be mastred by any muggles working neer it. Unhappily too, a violent easterly wind formented it, and at the printing of this paper the Fire has spread downwards as far as the water-side, and as far east as Lambeth Hill._

_The home of the Noble Malfoy family, being of location at Martin-Lane, fell before the flames as fast as any muggle house nearby, the Malfoy family having chosen not to invest in Flame-Freezing wards. There was no loss of life or limb of any of the wizards involved, but much material value was lost. This reporter askes any and all to assist the family as they are currently without a home.'_

Regulus put the paper down and let a wide smile appear on his face.

"Good news, Son?" his father asked.

"Yes indeed, Father," he answered. "It seems Lord Malfoy will no longer be able to just walk to Whitehall."

Nigellus quickly read through the top article, and laughed. The Blacks always got their revenge.

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A/N 2: The quote by the Lord Mayor is historically attested. There is no proof any Wizard may have been involved, however.

I've modelled the article after an actual seventeenth-Century newspaper report on the fire, 'unique' spellings and all!


End file.
